When she woke the next morning, Lee was ravenous. Lacey was still sleeping, so Lee dressed quietly in the dark and let herself out of the room to go in search of breakfast and coffee. Definitely coffee. Last night, after dinner and drinks, their gang had retired to their cabins, and Lee had more or less passed out. Which was surprising, given that she typically didn’t sleep well anywhere but in her own bed. But the flight from Charleston and the excitement of seeing her friends had left her drained. Her body felt stiff and creaky, her brain foggy. Coffee, she thought again.
When she reached the twelfth floor, the savory smells of breakfast greeted her. Her flip-flops squeaked on the cafeteria’s tiled floor, the sound all the more pronounced in the early-morning quiet. Soon, dozens of cruisers would be lining up for omelets and French toast, but right now, the only people awake were the health-conscious, grabbing a glass of juice after a workout, or the health-be-damned, smokers sneaking an early cigarette just beyond the cafeteria doors. Lee helped herself to a generous serving of scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee—and a chocolate muffin for good measure—and planted herself at a table.
A heavyset woman carrying a tray filled with pastries passed by her. “I’m in my glory now,” she said with a wink. Lee smiled. It was a well-known fact that the buffet was open around the clock, a food lover’s dream. Last night, their entire group had stopped by to investigate and had been overwhelmed by the possibilities. There was an unlimited salad bar (as if anyone would want to eat healthy food on vacation!), a Mexican bar with tacos and burritos, sandwiches of every imaginable combination, a “hot food” selection with fish, roast beef, chicken stir-fry, and three kinds of potatoes. And a dessert island that stretched for miles, including custard tarts topped with caramelized apples and pies bursting with berries. There were brownie bars the size of her fist and a soft-serve ice cream machine where the kids could help themselves. And for the virtuous—a fruit bar.
One of Lee’s coworkers had warned her that the typical weight gain on a cruise was anywhere from five to ten pounds, which (considering they’d be sailing for a week) seemed both ridiculous and entirely possible. Of course, Lee had been meaning to lose a few pounds before they set sail (when hadn’t she been meaning to?), but then life had gotten in the way. If she’d thought to step on the scale, chances were she would have discovered that she’d even gained a few pounds.
What she was looking forward to the most, though, even more than the unlimited cookies and brownies, was the luxury of not having to prepare a single meal for an entire week. To her mind, that alone justified the expense of the cruise. For lack of a better expression, Lee was “cooked out.” Every recipe in her recipe box had been tasted and tweaked, and she was sick of trying to come up with flavorful, original dishes. Besides, all Lacey ever did when she came home was pick at her food, and when Lee was by herself there hardly seemed to be any point in cooking at all. Usually, she’d boil pasta, throw on some sauce, and finish it off with a pint of ice cream.
When Lee had visited Lacey for parents’ weekend in October, she’d found only grapes and a carton of skim milk in her fridge. “Honestly, honey,” she’d teased. “How are you supposed to put on the freshman ten if this is what you’re eating?” Lacey had shot her a look and said, “That’s kind of the point, Mom. I don’t want to put on ten pounds.” Sometimes, Lee worried that her daughter might have an eating disorder, but then she’d spy Lacey enjoying an ice cream cone and would let the worry slide.
Lee took a bite of her eggs, sipped her coffee. Out the window, she could see the precise line of the horizon where the dark blue of the ocean split a dawning blue sky. She marveled at the color of the water, trying to recall where else she’d seen water so vibrantly blue, and then realized she’d only glimpsed this particular shade in a crayon. Yes, that was it: the water so far out to sea turned a breathtaking Crayola blue. She tried to think where they might be on a map. Perhaps somewhere off the Carolina coast? Soft waves lapped at the boat, rocking it like a child to sleep.
On the table sat the ship’s bulletin, aptly named The Smooth Sailor, and Lee scanned the day’s list of activities. Bingo. Trivia. A fruit-carving demonstration in the lobby at noon. A basketball tournament on the upper deck at three. The spa was offering a special two-for-one massage. Beyond that, a person could sign up for shuffleboard, check out books from the library, join in poolside games, or escape to a corner where one of several taverns awaited. Later in the day, there was musical theater, a magic show, karaoke. And on and on. The choices were endless, verging on the preposterous. Lee didn’t understand what more people could need than sun, a good book, and pleasant conversation. So many activities struck her as window dressing, daytime soap operas for the unimaginative.
She shoveled the last bite of eggs into her mouth, swiped her plate clean with a wedge of toast, and drained her coffee. When she rose to clear her tray, a steward magically appeared at her side to take it. “Why, thank you,” she exclaimed, momentarily wondering if she was supposed to tip him. Being treated like a queen, she thought, was certainly something she could get used to.
On her way out, she spotted Abby waving from across the cafeteria.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Abby was already in her bathing suit, the black strap poking out from underneath a pink cover-up. A floppy sun hat dangled from her hand.
“I was just heading back to the room to change into my suit,” said Lee. “Where’s Sam?”
“Still sleeping. How about Lacey?”
“Same.”
“How did you sleep?”
“Great. I was exhausted. You?”
“Like a baby. Sailing is so soothing, isn’t it?”
Lee nodded. “So far so good. How about I meet you back here in ten minutes?”
“Perfect.” Abby grinned. “I’ll be the girl sitting in the corner with a pile of waffles and whipped cream. Come find me.”
When Lee got back to the cabin, Lacey’s head was tucked behind the bedside table. “You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled.
“What’s the matter?” Lee asked.
“Our room has only one outlet for charging?”
“Oh, I’m sure there are more.” Lee bent down on her hands and knees to peek behind the bureau and beds, but after extensive searching, it appeared that Lacey was correct. Their first full day on the boat, and Lee was beginning to wonder if they were part of some larger science experiment, such as how long could family members remain civil to each other in cramped quarters? If so, providing only one outlet to a room was a great accelerator to the social experiment.
Lacey sighed and crawled onto the bed. A moment later she held up her phone, waving it in the air. “I don’t know why I even bothered charging it. We’ve officially lost all contact with the rest of the world. Zero bars.”
“Sorry, honey, but you’re going to have to learn to survive without Wi-Fi for a few days.” Lee tried to sound sympathetic, but she doubted that it came off as genuine.
“Chris says you can pay to get on the ship’s Wi-Fi system if you want to.”
“Yeah, and it costs a small fortune. Be my guest, if you’d like. But don’t you dare charge it to our room,” warned Lee.
Lacey shrugged and tossed the phone down on the bed. “Guess I can manage without it for a few hours.” Lee understood that the cruise presented a formidable challenge for her daughter: Could Lacey survive without being in constant contact with Tyler? It frustrated Lee that the girl whom she’d raised to be a self-sufficient woman was so clingy, so dependent, so needy. What had college done with her daughter? It was as if the young woman she’d sent off freshman year—sweet, idealistic—had been kidnapped and locked in a closet in her dorm room, while this other Lacey was staring back at her from the bed.
“C’mon,” she said now, swatting Lacey’s foot as she went to pull back the curtains from the balcony window. Sunlight flooded the cabin. “It’s a beautiful day, and you’re already missing out.” Lee cracked open the glass door, letting in a rush of warm air. Last night they’d cranked the air conditioner so that their cabin was now the approximate temperature of a refrigerator. “Abby and I are going to go sit by the pool. Why don’t you join us?”
Lacey stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “ ’Kay. After I get something to eat. And shower.”
Lee was about to point out there was no need to shower if Lacey was headed to the pool, but she held her tongue—she didn’t pretend to understand the workings of her daughter’s mind. Instead, she dug into the top dresser drawer for her navy bathing suit from last summer, which had a flouncy skirt that conveniently hid her hips. In the bathroom, she disrobed, banging her elbow on the shower stall.
“Ouch!” She opened the flimsy bathroom door to give herself a few more inches of room, but when she stepped into her suit, she realized she had bigger problems than her elbow: her suit was stuck halfway up her body.
“Uh-oh.”
“What’s wrong?” Lacey called from the other room.
Lee stepped out of the bathroom and gestured to her body, her boobs protruding from the top, the swimsuit not quite hiding the rolls of tummy fat below. “It doesn’t fit.” Had she really put on that much weight since last summer?
“Oh, Mom.” Lacey shook her head. “Here, let me help you.” She pushed up from the bed. “How,” Lacey continued, pulling on the strap, “did this possibly fit you last year?” She tugged until finally she got one strap up over Lee’s right arm, leaving only the left to contend with.
“Hey, we can’t all have teensy-weensy bodies.” Lee tried to think. Maybe she’d dried the suit on hot cycle by mistake and it had shrunk? She couldn’t possibly be bigger than a size 12, could she? She might have put on ten pounds. It was possible. What a cruel irony, though! Her daughter had gone off to college, and Lee had packed on an empathetic freshman ten. She thought back to when she’d been fixing Tom & Jerry drinks for a holiday party, the recipe calling for one pound of butter—or the equivalent of four sticks. Lee did the quick arithmetic in her head: if she had gained ten pounds, then strapped to her very middle-aged body were forty fresh sticks of butter. She moaned.
“Here, let me get around on your other side,” Lacey was saying as she circled to Lee’s left and tugged again. “Hold your stomach in, Mom.”
“I am,” Lee said through gritted teeth. Lacey pulled some more, stretching the strap out beyond Lee’s elbow until, like a rubber band, it snapped into place on her shoulder. “Ow!” Lee howled, but Lacey had collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles. Before she could stop herself, Lee was laughing, too. She had to admit: it was a little funny. Plus, it felt so nice to be sharing a light moment with her daughter that Lee couldn’t resist, even if it was at her own expense.
“Just don’t ask me to help you get out of that thing,” said Lacey.
“I swear it shrunk in the dryer. I have not put on that much weight.”
“Whatever you say, Mom.”
Lee batted Lacey in the leg with her beach towel. “I’m leaving. Come join us by the pool when you’re ready.” She stuffed her bag with sunblock, a book, and her room key. When she turned to leave, a flash of scarlet on the bed caught Lee’s eye. She stopped to look. It was Lacey’s teensy red bikini, big enough to cover maybe Lee’s elbow. Lee rolled her eyes and went off in search of her friend.
When they stepped through the sliding doors to the pool, a blast of heat hit Lee like a slap. The abrupt change in temperature from the air-conditioning inside made her sunglasses fog up, and she had to wipe them on the hem of her cover-up before placing them back on her nose. The air was heavy, thick with humidity. She followed Abby to the pool, where flocks of teenagers were already strategically positioned along its edge. Like birds preening their feathers for mating season, thought Lee. And the amount of bare skin! It was shocking, really. Even the girls in one-piece suits had the middles sliced out, exposing their pale, taut bellies. It made Lee want to spray sunblock all over their perfect little bodies.
“Let’s check the other side for chairs,” Abby said. Earlier, they’d bumped into Caroline, who’d promised to join them later, which meant they needed at least four chaise lounges. Abby and Lee located two amid the sea of chairs already claimed by passengers. It hadn’t occurred to Lee to pack chair clips to stake their territory poolside, but apparently the more seasoned cruisers already knew this trick. Seat after seat had a towel clipped to it with a fastener that seemed to shout, Taken! A few aisles down, she found two more chairs and scooted them over, making an even four. “There,” she said, triumphant, hands on her hips. “That ought to do us.”
“We’ll have to remember to get here early tomorrow.” Abby shook out her towel and laid it down. “Apparently, these seats are prime real estate.”
“That or we’re going to have to invest in some chair clips.” Lee settled into the chaise lounge beside her.
“Seriously. So, which one?” Abby waved two bottles of sunscreen in front of her. “I’m allowing myself one day in the sun, then it’s back to my solar shirt.”
“For the first day? Definitely seventy.” Lee pulled off her cover-up, an awkward kind of striptease to hide her jiggly bits.
Abby narrowed her eyes at her beneath her hat. “Cute suit,” she said.
“Thanks. You should have seen what it took to get me into it. The good news is: it’s on. The bad news is: I don’t think it’s coming off my body for the entire trip.”
Abby laughed and squeezed a zigzag of sunscreen into her palm, infusing the air with the scent of coconut. “Yeah, well, mine has a nice little tummy tuck built into it. Welcome to middle age.”
“It suits you.” Lee grinned at her own bad pun. “Really, you look great. Maybe even a little on the skinny side?” Lee had debated about saying anything, but since it had come up naturally in the conversation, she figured, Why not? Both she and Caroline had been surprised to see Abby, typically thin, looking even thinner. Maybe, Lee reasoned, Abby had lost some weight for the vows ceremony.
“Ladies, may I get you something to drink?” A cabana boy, his tanned skin the color of honey, interrupted her train of thought.
“I’m all set with my orange juice, thank you,” said Abby. “How about you, Lee? Want anything?”
Lee considered. “Is it too early for a Bloody Mary?”
“No ma’am. It’s never too early for a Bloody Mary.” Lee smiled at him. He was adorable in that way that any man who was twenty years younger than she was adorable.
“Well, in that case—” She dug into her bag for her room key and handed it over. It was wonderful to be able to charge everything to the room. With the whisk of a card, she could charge her meals, her drinks, spa treatments, any item at the ship’s gift store. At least she could pretend it was free money until she got the bill at the end of the trip. Lee wished there were a few other items she could put on her room key. Like liposuction, or several weeks of good therapy for Lacey, or Lacey’s entire college tuition. Those would be handy. At the moment, though, she’d gladly settle for a Bloody Mary.
Her eyes safely hidden behind her sunglasses, Lee took a moment to study the other passengers on deck. As far as she could tell, there were three types of cruisers: those who’d come to sunbathe and see Bermuda; those who’d come to drink themselves into oblivion; and those (mostly of the senior set) who intended to take full advantage of the onboard activities, never once stepping foot on land. She’d once read an article in Good Housekeeping that categorized the majority of cruisers as “newlyweds, overfeds, or almost deads.” She’d laughed when she read it, but now she had to admit it had a ring of truth.
A mother nearby hollered at her young son to stay out of the hot tub, prompting a sigh from Lee. Moms with young children were their own special tribe, and Lee didn’t miss it one bit—not that she’d ever really fit in. Before she started teaching, being a single mom had sometimes felt as if she brandished a scarlet letter on her chest. How many times had she tried to brush off the judgmental stares at parents’ night at Lacey’s school? Word traveled fast in their small southern town, and the only thing ostensibly worse than being a divorced parent was being a single parent. Especially a single, never-married (read unwed) mom.
Fortunately, she’d found her own small tribe of mothers to hang out with, women who were funny, sarcastic, and not at all afraid to admit that mothering was hard. And, well, if Abby and Caroline hadn’t been just a phone call away, Lee might have packed her bags and left young Lacey to fend for herself. It was Abby, in fact, who’d helped Lee through those first few weeks when Lee would call late at night in tears, her hormones surging. Even though Abby didn’t yet have the twins, she was the most natural mother of them all. “No one enjoys the first weeks of motherhood. No one. And anyone who tells you she does is either high or crazy.” Lee had laughed maniacally—they were the most comforting words she’d ever heard.
She smiled at Lacey, who had arrived and was now easing herself into the adjacent chair.
“Why is it that almost everyone under forty on this boat seems to have a tattoo?” Lee asked. She felt the same way about tattoos as she did about wearing jeans in middle age—neither seemed worth the pain and suffering. Why waste time with zippers when there were pants with elastic waistbands? To Lee’s mind, yoga pants were one of the most ingenious inventions ever, on par with airplanes or coffeemakers. “Don’t they know they can get hepatitis from needles?”
“Mom,” Lacey said in a chastising tone that suggested Lee should know better. “Since when did you become such a prude?”
“Since I saw all this bare skin.” Lee gestured around her, though her eyes were laser-beamed on Lacey’s chest, which was just barely contained by her red bikini top. Why hadn’t Lee insisted on approving her daughter’s wardrobe before they left? Because Lacey would never allow it. Because she is in college now. Sometimes Lee had to remind herself.
Lacey shrugged, her breasts rising like two very plump tomatoes. “Tattoos are the pierced ears of today’s generation.”
Lee forced herself to look away. “But tattoos are so permanent. It’s not like you can just let your pierced holes close up if you get tired of them. You’re stuck with that shamrock or the name of your lover—who will probably cheat on you anyway—on your ankle for the rest of your life.”
Lacey gawked at her. “How very optimistic of you.”
“Well, it’s true,” Lee countered.
“Whatever.” Lacey pulled a spray bottle from her bag and proceeded to coat her body with sunblock, leaving behind a shimmering globe of incandescent drops floating in the air. It seemed such a waste of sunblock. Lee was about to suggest she switch to the lotion variety, but her daughter had already plugged in her earbuds and shut her eyes, an all-too-familiar routine—Lacey’s unceremonious way of saying that she was done talking.
Abby shot Lee a searching look, but Lee just shook her head. Trying to have a conversation with her daughter these days could be so unfulfilling. No, that wasn’t the right word. Frustrating. Maddening. She contemplated tugging out an earbud and whispering an admonishment in Lacey’s ear, such as Would it kill you to talk to your mother and your godmother for a few minutes before tuning us out? Oh, and by the way, cover up! But then she thought better of it. Why poke the bear if the bear didn’t want to be poked?
Lee was on vacation, too. She intended to enjoy herself.
She dug through her bag for her book, a self-help title she’d checked out from the library the day before they left. When she cracked it open, a musty scent wafted up. She read the first sentence: You can either choose to be encouraged by what you see in the world or you can choose to be dismayed. It is your choice. The lines swam through her mind. Usually Lee bypassed the self-help shelf, but lately things had gotten so tense with Lacey that she’d plucked up a few titles in hopes that one might help smooth the way.
You can either choose to be encouraged by what you see in the world or you can choose to be dismayed, she read again. It was a nice sentiment, along the lines of all those motivational shows that told you to focus on the positive. It sounded easy enough, but that was precisely why Lee was wary. Anything that was too quick a fix couldn’t possibly work, could it?
She glanced over at Lacey, whose head bobbed slightly to the beat of whatever song she listened to. What could it hurt to try? thought Lee. What if, as the book suggested, Lee chose to be encouraged by her daughter’s behavior instead of dismayed? She tried to concentrate on something positive—maybe the fact that Lacey had joined them by the pool in the first place. That her daughter wasn’t embarrassed to sit with her? That felt like some kind of small victory.
She shut the book, set it on the table next to her, and closed her eyes. After a minute, she moaned, “I could get used to this.”
“Me, too,” said Abby. “No one fighting. Sunshine. All the time in the world to read a good book.”
“This is the life, Abs. Thanks for inviting us.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
It occurred to Lee that she should wait for her Bloody Mary to arrive before she napped, but perhaps the kind waiter would set it down gently and leave it for her. As her eyelids grew heavier, she thought about how nice it was to have no bigger decision to make than which cocktail to order or what level SPF to use. First world problems, Lacey called them. Not a single preschooler to demand an extra snack, no tantrums to be defused. The sweet little cherubs, bless their hearts, were back with their parents till the end of August.
Come September, Lee knew she’d be ready to return to the classroom, but right now, lying in the sun, surrounded by perfectly reasonable adults, she was more than content—she was encouraged. By all the vacationing families around them, by this rare opportunity to enjoy a trip with her best friends (and, possibly, her daughter), by something as simple as today’s glorious weather. It was her choice, she reminded herself.
And, with the gentle rocking of the boat, she drifted off to sleep.
At the health club, Caroline found her way to the stationary bikes lining the panel of windows that looked out over the water. Earlier, she’d tried running on the track that looped around the top deck, but the combination of the boat’s rocking and the sharp corners had made her stomach lurch. She’d come to the club in hopes of finding a more level playing field; Javier, never big on exercise, had gone off to enjoy his coffee and a book at the cafeteria.
For the first morning of vacation, the gym was surprisingly packed, and Caroline was lucky to get the last free bicycle. She climbed on, slipped in her earbuds, and began to pedal slowly, all the while envisioning the breakfast buffet she would gorge herself on later. She figured if millions of calories were going to lay siege to her body over the next several days, then she would fight back as best she knew how. By pedaling hundreds of miles.
As she cycled along, the odometer ticking off the distance, she imagined herself biking across the ocean to Madrid, maybe to Paris, with Javier—and dreamily thought back to last night. Sex was always better when they’d been apart for more than a few days, and last night had been no exception. There was something almost primal about it, as if their bodies couldn’t be satiated, Javier’s tongue licking the salt from her skin. It was an instinctive, crazy love. The kind that kicked all the sheets off the bed in a sweaty mess.
Afterward, Caroline had wrapped a sheet around her waist and gone out on the balcony, where the dark water swirled below. Moonlight fell in ropes across the ocean, forming a shimmering ladder that climbed out to the horizon. When Javier came up behind her and nuzzled his chin against her neck, she could feel the rough stubble of his midnight shadow tickling her skin.
“That was amazing,” he mumbled into her neck.
“Yep. Pretty good,” she agreed, giggling at the scrape of his whiskers. Her eyes were on the orange moon above, just shy of full. “Look.” She pointed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Javier lifted his head, then rested his chin on her shoulder. “A Star Wars moon.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“You know, like the moons of Tatooine? In the movies?”
Caroline turned around and took his face in her hands. “Sometimes,” she said, placing delicate kisses along his jawline, “you are so little. It’s adorable.”
“What?” He seemed surprised and pulled back. “You don’t remember the three moons that Luke would see in the night sky? There was always one that was a vibrant orange, like tonight’s.”
“Just be quiet, okay?” Caroline’s lips found his, and she could taste the Cabernet that they’d brought back to the room after winning at the blackjack table earlier. Beginner’s luck, Javier had teased when Caroline raked in more than a hundred dollars. Whatever he wanted to call it, the money, the wine—it all tasted good to her. Caroline’s body pressed against the warmth of his; she hadn’t realized how much she’d been craving him.
“I missed you,” she said at last.
“And I missed you.” He stroked her hair, and she buried her head in his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart through bare skin.
“Maybe we don’t have to miss each other so much?” She peered up at him.
Javier met her gaze. “What do you mean?”
She bit her bottom lip, worried it with her teeth. She’d hinted earlier that she and Javier should figure out the next steps in their relationship, but should she get into it now? On their first night, when everything had been so perfect? That she wanted what they already had, only more? An official proposal. A wedding, nothing huge, but a ceremony that would bind them together till death do them part. She toyed with the idea of how best to make him understand. She knew his freedom was important to him, but it wasn’t as if Caroline was trying to hold him back, was it? He could travel as much as he wanted, as much as he needed for work. And Caroline wasn’t sure she even wanted kids. In her forties, she didn’t know if it was possible. So, what would be the big deal if they tied the knot?
The thing was, the argument she wanted to make to Javier—that marriage was no big deal—was contrary to the very reason she wanted a ring on her finger in the first place. Marriage was a big deal. A lifelong commitment. Which was exactly why she longed for it.
“Nothing.” She shook her head and took a step back, grabbing on to the railing. No, she wasn’t prepared to parse their relationship on their first night back together. Why spoil a good evening? They had plenty of more days on the boat. Ample time for her to make her case, if need be, though she was secretly hoping it wouldn’t be necessary.
“It’s just nice to have you back,” she said finally. She gazed out at the night sky, the graceful arc of the Big Dipper cutting through the dark. “You know, whenever my mom used to travel, she’d tell me to look up at the Big Dipper at eight o’clock, my bedtime,” Caroline explained, smiling at the long-ago memory. “She told me she’d do the same, wherever she might be, and that if we looked at the same time, the stars would flash brighter. It probably sounds silly, but for a little girl missing her mom, it meant the world. Of course, I had no idea about time zones then.”
“And did they ever flash?” asked Javier.
“To me they did. All the time.”
“What a marvelous memory,” he said. “Did your mom travel a lot?” A few months after they’d started dating, Caroline had shared that her mom was a flight attendant, and, as a result, Caroline had spent much of her childhood missing her. That this important piece of her personal history had slipped Javier’s mind was surprising, but forgivable.
“She was a flight attendant.”
“Oh, right. You told me that. Sorry, I forgot.”
Caroline fell quiet for a moment, considering. “To think she’d only seen Long Island before she became a stewardess. I suppose I have a little bit of her wanderlust in me. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. She was so glamorous. She would wear this crisp blue skirt and a white blouse with a tiny pair of silver wings pinned to the pocket. I thought she looked like royalty.”
“She sounds lovely,” said Javier. “Just like her daughter. I wish I’d met her.”
“Me, too,” said Caroline wistfully. Her mom would have adored Javier; she was sure of it. He was a good man to the core. But then again, her mom had also been unfailingly practical. Caroline was fairly certain that Marjorie Canton would have grown impatient with a suitor who, after dating her daughter for three years, had yet to propose. In her own graceful way, she would have pushed Javier to get his act together. And yet, Caroline also liked to heed her father’s favorite piece of advice: Good things come to those who wait. Like a grape on the vine, Javier just needed a little more time to ripen.
Half the fun (she was sure Javier would tell her later) was in the anticipation, the suspense of not knowing when a proposal would come. Why rush it? She couldn’t ask for a more perfect setting—a cruise to Bermuda while celebrating her best friend’s wedding anniversary.
Now all she had to do was wait.
She finished up her final minutes on the bike, then slowed to a more leisurely pace. Eventually, she eased off the seat and helped herself to a water bottle and a towel that had been spritzed with something heavenly—maybe eucalyptus? She planned to grab a quick shower and a muffin before meeting Abby and Lee at the pool. When she pushed through the doors of the fitness room, however, Javier was coming up the stairs from the cafeteria.
“Perfect timing!” he exclaimed. In his arms was a tray brimming with juice and croissants, fresh fruit and waffles. “I thought you might enjoy room service after your workout?” He held it out to her, his eyebrows waggling above those bright blue eyes.
She grinned at him. Her very own Dionysus. How could she not love this man? More important, how could she resist? Abby and Lee would have to wait.